


Overeager

by MagicRobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Rough Sex, Sticky Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicRobot/pseuds/MagicRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyclonus and Tailgate have some rough interfacing against a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overeager

The door to their hab suite was barely shut when Cyclonus pinned Tailgate against the wall, ravishing his neck cables with sharp nicks from his dentae. Tailgate could do nothing except clutch at Cyclonus’ lone horn, moaning unabashedly. He tossed his helm to the side, allowing Cyclonus greater access to the sensitive cables near his helm. Cyclonus growled, gripping Tailgate’s hips with dent-worthy force.

"Cyclonus," moaned Tailgate, rubbing at Cyclonus’ horn in a suggestive manner. A long lick to his neck cables caused him to pause and he shivered, the wires quivering under Cyclonus’ mouth. He felt Cyclonus smirk against the metal.

Cyclonus’ servos rubbed against Tailgate’s abused hip plating, skimming around to his aft, where they kneaded the metal. Gasping, Tailgate squirmed at the unexpected attention. He wrapped his legs around Cyclonus’ hips and retaliated by grinding his interface panel onto Cyclonus’ equally around one. The militant bit at Tailgate’s main energon line, puncturing it slightly. He lapped at the resulting flow of energon and Tailgate whimpered. 

Cyclonus clutched at Tailgate’s aft, guiding his motions against his panel. Paint flaked off from where they connected and a rattling clang echoed around the room. Tailgate arched against him, his backstrut pulled taut. He grasped at Cyclonus’ shoulders for dear life, riding out the waves of pleasure. Cyclonus rutted against Tailgate in a brutal manner. He didn’t bother to hold back - he knew Tailgate could take it and, best of all, actually enjoyed it.

The servos digging into Tailgate’s aft eventually moved, now toying with the manual latch for Tailgate’s interface panel. The valve behind it clinched in excitement, lubricant seeping out of it in waves. With a heady whimper, Tailgate disengaged the locks, his valve fully exposed to the outside. He pushed his aft back into Cyclonus’ wandering digits. They disappeared before any penetration could be accomplished and Tailgate groaned in disappointment.

"Cyclonus, please," begged Tailgate, his helm burying against Cyclonus’ shoulder. He nuzzled his facemask against the other mech’s chin, an equal parts coy and pleading gesture. Cyclonus growled, bringing Tailgate’s legs tighter against his hips.

Cyclonus chuckled darkly, his ex-venting brushing against Tailgate’s helm. The minibot shivered, then emitted a strangled scream as Cyclonus plunged two digits deep into his valve. His valve clenched the intrusion, pulling them in deeper. Cyclonus scissored the walls, loosening the calipers. As he began to thrust his digits, the nodes ignited with pleasure in his wake. Tailgate gasped, his servos trailing down to clutch at Cyclonus’ abdominal plating, working his smaller digits under the sensitive plating.

Pressing closer to the minibot, Cyclonus used wide scissoring motions, adding a third digit to the quivering valve. He nibbled at Tailgate’s facemask, thrusting with quick and hard motions. He thumbed at Tailgate’s anterior node on every other thrust, spreading the valve wide. Their venting became ragged, their bodies overheating rapidly. Tailgate rolled into Cyclonus’ motions, soft pleas for more leaving his vocalizer.

The valve spasmed around Cyclonus and the flier knew the other was close. In his wandering, Tailgate managed to slip his servos under a particularly sensitive set of plating near Cyclonus’ hip. The minibot pulled at the sensor cluster underneath, rolling the wires between his digits. 

Cyclonus snarled, pulling away from the dripping valve. Tailgate began to protest, but quietened as he watched in fascination as Cyclonus licked the left over lubricant from his digits. He watched with a half lit visor, rubbing his empty valve against Cyclonus’ still closed interface panel. Lubricant stained the plating in a clear invitation.

Growling, Cyclonus pinned Tailgate’s hips against the wall, his panel opening with a sharp, “snick.” His spike extended, rigid and twitching where it stood. Tailgate reached a servo down, running it along the biolights in the sides. He traced the ridges, teasing Cyclonus in a maddening way.

Eventually, the militant grew tired of Tailgate’s teasing, swatting his servo away with a husky moan. Tailgate laughed, laying his servos obediently against Cyclonus’ shoulders.

Huffing, Cyclonus pulled Tailgate’s valve toward his aroused spike, pushing it in in one fluid motion. Tailgate wiggled his hips, the spike far larger than Cyclonus’ digits. Cyclonus gave him a moment to adjust, the tip of his spike bumping a node cluster deep in Tailgate’s valve, while the entrance pulled at his base. He shook with the effort to keep from slamming in Tailgate, patiently waiting for the the go-ahead.

Fortunately for him, it didn’t take long for Tailgate’s pinched look to disappear and for him to nod his consent. Cyclonus gripped at Tailgate’s thighs, spreading his legs wide as he drove into the minibot. He wasn’t gentle, he was fast and brutal. Tailgate didn’t protest, however. Instead, he laid limp in Cyclonus’ hold, moaning unabashedly, static lacing into his vocalizer.

Cyclonus licked at Tailgate’s mask, running his glossa along the slots on the sides. Tailgate butted his helm into the ministrations. Their venting mingled together, the ozone around them settling into a thick fog.

On a particularly hard thrust, Cyclonus managed to hit the blue mech’s ceiling node. Tailgate choked on a sob, screaming in ecstasy. He chanted his lover’s name, pleading for Cyclonus to do it again. Cyclonus obliged him, agling his hips so he could hit the node over and over again. The valve tightened around the spike, and Cyclonus knew that the other was close.

Tailgate clutched at Cyclonus’ plating, leaving little rivets in his paint job. His helm tossed to the side, his visor flickering as overload rapidly approached. He felt his valve quiver, and with one last thrust, Tailgate came undone, screaming Cyclonus’ designation.

Cyclonus paused in his thrusting, feeling Tailgate overload around him. He groaned, picking up his pace even further, not giving Tailgate any time to recover. Tailgate whined, the hyper-sensitive lining of his valve picking back up his charge until he was once again on the brink of overload. Cyclonus grunted, gritting his denta to stave off his own overload for as long as possible.

Lubricant and transfluid dribbled to the floor. Cyclonus bit and sucked at Tailgate’s plating and the minibot gripped Cyclonus’ helm for dear life. Warnings flashed across Cyclonus’ vision. It wasn’t long after that he overloaded hard, his transfluid filling Tailgate’s stuffed valve. More transfluid dripped down Tailgate’s thighs and he overloaded once again with a tired moan.

Sated and exhausted, they sagged against the wall as they both recovered, their venting coming out in rapid pants. Tailgate nuzzled against Cyclonus’ cheekholes, while Cyclonus laid a gentle kiss against Tailgate’s mask.

Tailgate sighed. “That was great and all, but next time, can we do it on the berth.” He gave a pointed look to the berth behind them, rubbing at his sore backstrut for emphasis.

"Who said I was done with you?" replied Cyclonus, carrying his smaller lover over to the berth and looming over him. Tailgate’s exhaustion quickly evaporated as his engine gave a rev of excitement.`


End file.
